


Holdbacks and Steps Forward

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: Set in current Grey's time - Jackson and April decide to get back together, on the condition that they hold off on sex. How long can they last?





	Holdbacks and Steps Forward

When we get into bed together at night, the silence isn’t charged with anger or malice. During the past couple weeks, we’ve been in the same bed, going to sleep content with the other instead of pissed off. It’s a refreshing feeling, and one I’ve admittedly had to get used to all over again. 

I’m so used to waiting for the other shoe to drop. For a fight to start, for a disagreement to happen, for him to do something that sets me off. But that hasn’t been the case.

We looked each other in the eye one day two weeks ago as I handed Harriet off, and knew. We couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn't working. We weren’t at full capacity apart; we needed each other. He’s part of my happiness, I love knowing he’s always there to fall back on. And I’m his home, his comfort, someone he can break down his walls for. 

You don’t just cut off communication, cut off everything, with your person. When you find your person in life, you don’t let them go. No matter the circumstances. 

So, we’re trying again. We started therapy almost immediately, which has been both informative and cathartic.

Tonight, Harriet is asleep in her nursery, soundly as ever. And Jackson is close to me. I’m feeling things I haven’t felt in a long time, and those feelings are very welcome. 

I miss him. In every sense of the word, I miss him. It hasn’t been incredibly long since we’ve had sex, but it’s been a very long time since the sex meant something. It’s been over a year since we’ve made love in a way that felt like us; slow, intimate, sacred. The shameful sex after Montana was rushed and quiet, hurried and clumsy. It was to release tension, gravitate to something familiar, let go of the pressure built up if either of us had a hard day. 

I won’t say he used me, because I used him right back. I knew how much it was hurting both of us, yet we didn’t stop. 

I miss the sex we used to have. Where the foreplay was drawn-out, when he touched every inch of my body and memorized what he already knew, and we moved slow. I’m turned on just thinking about it. 

“Jackson…” I whisper, reaching for him in the dark. He’s lying on his back, arms stretched above his head, barely asleep. I can tell by his breathing. “Are you awake?” 

He grunts, stomach moving as he does. I smile to myself. 

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a… no,” he says. “I wasn’t. But I am now. What’s up?” 

I push the covers off and crawl closer to him, running my hands over his chest with my fingers spread wide. “I can’t sleep,” I say. 

“Why’s that?” he asks. 

“Too much on my mind,” I answer. 

“About what?” 

I bend at the waist and kiss his jaw, taking small sections of skin between my teeth to trail behind his ear. “You,” I say, positioning myself to straddle his waist. 

I’m wearing a pair of flimsy pajama shorts and a big t-shirt, so there’s not much between our bodies when it comes to barriers. While watching the shine of his eyes in the low light, I subtly grind my hips against his groin and feel him harden between my legs. 

“Mmm…” I moan, flattening my hands on his chest again. His find my thighs, fingertips running beneath the fabric of my shorts. 

With our torsos pressed together, I open my mouth on his and kiss him - slow and hot. He buries his hands in my hair and holds tight to the base of my skull, keeping me where I am. I keep moving my hips rhythmically, taking my time in scooping them forward to run down the entire length of him, relishing the sensation of his erection twitching beneath me. 

“I miss you,” I whisper, lowering to his neck. I press sweet kisses to the side of it, feeling his pulse under my lips as I pay close attention to what he likes. 

From his neck I move to his sternum down to the middle of his chest, then my arm sneaks under my hips so I can touch his penis. His body tenses as I grab the lower part of the shaft, knowing just how to stroke him, slow and gentle at first. 

“Mm, April,” he mutters, my hand still moving. He grows with every passing second, every passing movement, but it seems like he’s trying to fight it. 

“Let me, baby,” I murmur, lips moving over his cheek. 

He makes a frustrated sound and lifts my body off, and I sit next to him with a bewildered expression on my face, feeling jilted and empty. 

“What…?” I stammer. “What’s wrong?” 

He sighs, rubbing his temples. I let my eyes roam his body; his erection is still very obvious, painfully so, actually. 

“I don’t think we should…” he trails off. “Right now.” 

“What?” I say again. “Have sex?” 

He nods.

“Why not?” I ask, feeling defensive. It’s not exactly empowering when your lover lifts you off them and totally spurns your advances. “You were fine doing it with me without speaking in the middle of the night, sneaking into my room without even bothering to take my nightgown off.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s why,” he says. “We still have pent-up resentment towards each other. There’s still so much we haven’t talked about.” 

I cross my arms, propped up on my knees. “Since when did you become so emotionally mature?” I ask. “I thought I was supposed to play that role.” 

He smirks. “I’m actually trying to listen to this therapist.” There’s a meaningful pause before he says, “I want us to work, April.” 

My face softens and I uncross my arms, crawling towards him to set my chin on his chest and blink, watching his face. “Me, too,” I say. “But I just miss…” My hand slinks down his torso and finds its way between his legs, where my fingertips brush over his hard-on again. “The carnival.” 

“The what?” he says. “What does a carnival have to do with this?” 

“Never mind,” I say.

He pushes my insistent hand away.

“You’re smart,” I say. “But no fun.” 

He gives a smile as his answer and kisses my forehead. “Go to sleep,” he mutters. 

I wake up the next morning in a sour mood. I’m making a bottle for Harriet when Jackson comes down the hall, dressed and smelling like my shampoo. Usually, something like that would make me smile, but today it does nothing. 

“Morning, ladies,” he says, walking behind the baby and dropping a kiss on her crown. She grins and lifts her head to look at him, reaching to grab the sides of his face. “Hi, sweet girl,” he says, giving her another kiss.

I pour a cup of coffee for myself with a good amount of creamer, keeping my back faced towards him. I’m not mad at him, per se, but his warmth this morning isn’t something I can reciprocate. 

“Hey, baby,” he says, swiping a hand across my lower back as he passes. “Sleep good?” 

“Yeah,” I answer. 

“That’s good,” he says, taking a banana from where they hang on the fruit hook. “You kept kicking me, though. Having some crazy dreams?” 

“How should I remember?” I ask, snapping the lid of my travel mug on. “I don’t know.” 

“Seems like you were,” he says.

“Well, I don’t know,” I repeat. “I’m gonna go. I’ll drop Harriet off.” 

“Alright,” he says. “Hey, did your pour me a cup, or should I pour one myself?”

“You have hands, don’t you?” I ask, picking the baby out of her high chair and balancing her on my hip. “I’m not here to serve you.” 

“Hey, hey,” he says, palms up in submission. “I was just asking. I didn’t wanna have two if you already poured one.” 

“Well, I didn’t,” I say, grabbing my purse. “See you at work.” 

Usually, I talk to Harriet incessantly while we’re driving, but today I stay silent as I stew. My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as I make the familiar drive to the hospital, and even as I try to shake my mood once I park the car, it stays. 

Though I’m usually the optimistic one around here, I already know today is not going to be good. 

I drop Harriet off at daycare and make way to the pit, where there isn’t much going on. I groan, as I’d hoped there would be plenty of activity to keep my mind occupied. 

But all I end up doing is organizing and reorganizing things, fixing minor injuries, and making sure all the supplies are stocked. Tedious, meaningless work, and I can’t help but concentrate on how pent-up I feel. I feel antsy, like there’s an itch I can’t scratch. Usually, when I’m at work and being productive, that feeling never shows up. But today, it won’t leave.

I sit down for lunch with Alex, Arizona and Meredith and keep my head low. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but I don’t care to be included. I had been sitting alone, but they came to join me without so much as asking if they could. It just ticked me off even further.

“How’s your day been, April?” Meredith asks, calling attention to me for the first time. 

I open my mouth to respond, but Arizona gets there first. 

“Wait, I have to tell you. Right now, we have a baby whose heart is growing outside her body. You guys should sit in the gallery while Alex and I operate, it’s gonna be one for the books.” 

I narrow my eyes at her. “Not like I was talking or anything,” I grumble.

“What’s that, April?” she asks.

“I said,” I say. “Not like I was talking. You totally just interrupted me.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“It doesn’t matter,” I snap. “No one cares, anyway.” 

“Well, I did ask,” Meredith says. 

“If you must know,” I say. “I’ve been doing next to nothing. Hunt scheduled me in the ER today, yet no one seems to have emergencies. It sucks. I’ve been an administrative assistant all day, and I’m tired of it. I’m about to freaking explode.”

“At least you’re good at that stuff,” Alex points out. 

“Yeah, thanks a whole lot,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I didn’t go through years of school to do office work. I want to cut somebody open, damn it. I’m tired of this. So, don’t tell me I’m ‘good at it.’ That doesn’t help.”  

“Geez, Kepner,” Alex says. “Who peed in your Cheerios? Yang used to bite my ass off like that. Almost makes me miss her.”

“Nothing,” I mutter. 

“Yeah, doesn’t really seem like nothing,” Arizona says. 

“It’s nothing,” I insist, more forceful this time. 

There’s a silence before Alex speaks again. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy?” he asks. “You and Avery are boinking again. You’re always happy when that’s happening, it’s gross.” 

I stay quiet, stabbing the lettuce of my salad without picking any up to eat.

“Wait,” he says, taking note of my silence. “You two aren’t having sex?” 

“I am not talking about this.” 

He groans, letting his head fall into his open palms. “You guys are together and not banging every chance you get? It’s like I don’t know you anymore. What’s going on? Has he been seeing Mayfield in 22, or something?” 

I furrow my eyebrows. “No,” I say, defensively. “He’s fine in that-in that department.” I clear my throat. “He’s fine.” 

“So, what’s the problem then?” Alex asks. 

“This is not your business!” I say, standing up from the table in a huff and taking my unfinished lunch with me. “I am fine. Don’t even think about talking about me when I leave.” 

I storm off, throwing my lunch away, and try to find something to do. Over the course of the day, I deal with a few minor traumas, but nothing that keeps me occupied for more than an hour or two. When it’s about time to leave, I find myself wandering the halls in search of hopefully a lost patient with a life-threatening wound who needs tending to.

But instead, I find Jackson. And Alex. The two people who I didn’t want to find, talking much too loudly in a pretty deserted area. 

“Dude, you gotta bang Kepner,” Alex says. “For the good of everyone.”

I gasp, covering my mouth with one hand as I back up to hit the wall. I can still see the side of Jackson’s face, though, and he cringes at his friend. 

“Why do you say stuff like that?” Jackson asks. “You’re so-” 

“Listen to me,” Alex says, almost desperately. “She bit my head off today. I can’t remember the last time she did that, but it was a long ass time ago. It was mean, man! She was mean!” He sighs. “Sorry to say it like this, but she needs some dick in her life. Yours, preferably. You’re the only one who can tolerate her.” 

“Hey.” 

“Whatever!” he says. “You get what I’m saying. Her head’s gonna pop off if you don’t give it to her.” 

Jackson sighs. “I’m trying to be healthy about-” 

“You know what’s not healthy?” Alex continues. “Dead people. Dead colleagues of yours! If you don’t bone Kepner, I swear she’s gonna go on a murdering spree. And it’s not gonna be pretty. You should’ve seen the look in her eyes earlier. She was holding back some seriously evil shit.” 

Jackson stifles a laugh, but Alex isn’t joking. 

“Do it, or I might have to.”

“Fuck off,” Jackson says, and I take that as my cue to leave. 

Jackson is picking Harriet up from daycare today, so I make a detour on my way home. I almost chicken out at least five times, but somehow I end up in the parking lot of Bellefleur Lingerie Boutique. 

“Why are you doing this?” I say to myself, but get out of the car anyway. “Why, why, why, why…” 

But I push through the glass door and a little bell sounds, making everyone aware of my presence. Without even being spoken to, my cheeks blush red as I look around at all the lacy undergarments laid in front of me. 

“Hi there,” a saleswoman asks, making me jump. “What can I help you find today?” 

I clasp my hands together. This isn’t the first time I’ve worn lingerie for Jackson, it isn’t the first time I’ve gone shopping for it, but for some reason I feel so nervous. I don’t want to be shot down like I was last night, and I want to wear something that’ll make that impossible. 

“I need something… small,” I say, in disbelief of the words coming out of my mouth. “Lacy, and maybe see-through?” 

She smiles and nods me along. 

“Not black,” I say. “Or red. But any other color will probably be good.” 

“Okay,” she says. “Right this way. Any special occasion?” 

I clear my throat. “Um, no,” I say, though it feels very special indeed. “I just want to surprise my, um… my husband.” 

“Keeping things interesting,” she says, grinning over her shoulder. “Love that.” 

“Yeah,” I say. “Hopefully he will, too.” 

“Oh, he will,” she says. “And I think I have the perfect piece for you. What do you think about this?” She holds up a teal bra and panty set, both lace, both skimpy. The thong is as low-rise as they come and the bra is triangle-shaped, the lace a thin facade over what’ll be beneath. It doesn’t leave anything to the imagination, which is exactly what I want. 

“I - yeah,” I say. “That one. That’s good.” 

She raises her eyebrows. “I thought so. What can I grab you? 32…?” 

“32B and a small,” I say. “And… do you have it in any color besides the blue?” 

She flips through the rack, humming to herself as she goes. “We have this in your size,” she says, holding up a coral pink with the same detailing. 

“That’s it,” I say. “That’s perfect.” 

I still somehow get home before Jackson does, and I rush to put on my new garments. But once they’re on my body, I can’t stop fidgeting and pulling at them. I’ve never worn anything more uncomfortable in my life, but I tell myself to ignore it for the purpose they’ll serve. 

I study my reflection at every angle as I turn around, staring at the way it makes my butt look. I never thought I had much of an ass, but this sure makes it seem like I do. 

I take it off only to shave everything that needs to be shaved in record time. Once I’m done - skin smooth as silk - I slip it back on with my flowy black robe overtop. 

I make it into the kitchen just as Jackson gets home with the baby. He’s holding her on his chest as she sleeps, and smiles briefly my way before disappearing into the nursery to lay her down.

When he comes back out, I watch his eyes trail up and down my body, but I keep my secret. 

“You’re late tonight,” I say, leaning my hip against the counter. “Hungry?” 

“Already ate,” he says. “Baby did, too, so don’t worry.” 

“Okay,” I say. “What kept you?” 

“Post-ops,” he says. “Boring, but necessary. You know how it goes.” 

“Uh-huh,” I say, focusing on his chest; his shirt is pulled tight across the expanse of his muscles. “I do.” 

He loosens his tie and sets his bag down on the counter, then comes around to where I’m standing. “Heard you didn’t have the greatest day today,” he says. 

My eyes flit around the room. “You’d be right,” I say. “I was bored. Good things don’t happen when I get bored.”

“I know,” he says. “Hey, I have something for you.” 

“You do?” 

He nods and holds up one finger, then disappears out the door he came through to run to his car. When he comes back, he’s holding a beautiful arrangement of carnations and calla lilies. 

“To make a bad day better,” he says, presenting them in front of me and hugging my waist from behind. He drops a kiss on my shoulder as I run my fingertips over the flowers’ soft petals and marvel over how pretty they are. 

“Thank you,” I say. I can’t help but be truly touched that he listened - he paid that much attention and knew what I’d like after a long, trying day. He knows how much I love flowers, especially pink ones. He knows me, and he put forth effort. 

It’s turning me on more than anything else. 

But also, with more clarity than I had earlier, I know we do need to talk. More, about everything. And not just the little things, either. The big things are what we need to concentrate on; the big things that will never go away. 

Samuel. Jordan. Jordan, again. The divorce. And a ton of fallible personality traits and mistakes we made throughout. 

But right now, with his warm lips on the side of my neck, I want that connection. I want to feel good because of him, I want to hand myself over to him. And I have a feeling he’s riding my same wavelength. 

His hands play with the tie of my robe, but I gently direct them away. I don’t want him to know, not yet.

“I heard you talking to Alex today,” I murmur, eyelashes fluttering as he sucks on my pulse point.

After he hears what I’ve said, he freezes. “You did?” he asks. 

I ghost my fingertips over his wrists and forearms. “Mm-hmm,” I say, then turn around so the counter digs into the small of my back and I’m facing him. “He’s not wrong, you know.” 

Jackson’s eyes dart between my eyes and my mouth compulsively, his brain clouded with what to do next. 

“I wouldn’t have used such crass terms, but…” I sigh. “I want to talk to you. I want to communicate, I want to lay everything out in the open to finally resolve it. Without getting angry with each other, without… me leaving.” I look away self-consciously. “Without you giving up. With both of us putting forth due effort. But also…” I run my hands down his chest. “I want this back. I want this heat, this crazy, sexy, pull we have… I want that.” I let out a shaky breath, tugging my lower lip into my mouth. “I want you to make me come so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.” 

His eyes widen and practically bug out of his head. “Jesus, April,” he says. He licks his lips and trails his hands down my sides, pulling our hips flush together. I can easily feel what I’ve already done to him, and it’s pressing insistently against my thigh. “We do… we do need to talk…” he says, but his eyes are swimming. His pupils are dilated to the point of no return. “But I also need to…” He poises his fingers over the knot on my robe, but I stop him.

“Wait,” I breathe. “Come here.” 

I lead him to the couch and he trails after me like a puppy. I push his shoulders so he’ll sit down and I stay standing, positioned tight between his knees. 

“Unwrap me,” I say, pulling his hands back to the tie of my robe. 

He exhales deeply, and when I look down I see him straining against the crotch of his pants. He holds the tie of the robe in one hand and rests the other on my hip, and I try to control my wild heartbeat as he takes his time disrobing me. 

When the material falls to either side of my body and exposes what little I have on underneath, he closes his eyes and groans loudly. When he opens them again, he pushes the robe off my shoulders so it falls to the floor in a soundless heap, and I’m left before him in barely anything. 

He trails his hands down my sides, over the slight swell of my hips, over my thighs, before sneaking between my legs. He leans forward, presses a deliberate kiss to the apex of my ribcage, and sits up straighter to kiss my sternum between my breasts. He reaches a hand up and pinches my nipple softly through the see-through lace, grazing over my skin with his teeth as he does. 

Then, in one swift motion, he stands up and lifts me into his arms. I expertly wrap my legs around his waist and start kissing him, holding his head in both hands as we practically attack each other’s mouths. 

As he walks us to the bedroom, I think I hear him mutter, “We’ll talk later.”


End file.
